The best buds of all are the oriental poppies. They wear thick woollen tights, but silk knickers beneath. This one is about to burst its breeches.
After five minutes in the garden I have re-charged and re-energised. There is so much to be grateful for. So many little miracles unfolding before me. Energy bursting upwards and outwards, exploding out of buds. Light shining out of stems and leaves. An infinite variety of shapes and textures.
Like with life, the garden is always in a state of flux. Nothing stays the same for long. There is always something new, always change.
Daffodils can be a bit shouty; a bit full-on; a bit draining. This post gives space to the subtle ones.
My favourite winter job in the garden is MULCHING. Just the word is delightful. Like squelching, but warmer and snugglier.
I am a ‘colour pop’ kind of a girl. But occasionally, with a light frost, I am forced to focus on the neutrals. With the aid of my new book all about colour, I can now distinguish my buff from my fawn!
Let’s celebrate those who dare to be different. Who let their madness shine through. Who receive a frosty reception but do it anyway.
A post about how the dark times we go through help us to appreciate the moments of lightness…
There is something about walking together. The rhythmic pounding and arm swinging. You fall into step and emotionally attune to one another. There is nothing forced about it; it just happens.
I remember finding the image of Miss Haversham rather thrilling. Her abandon of social convention. Her total neglect of housework. Her cunning.
Being outdoors, pottering in the garden, listening to the birds, noticing colours and textures and patterns, enjoying a cup of tea… These are all forms of self-care. They are nurturing for my soul. Self-care brings clarity. I am refreshed, and can see things more clearly.
Sissinghurst in October is a gentle place. There is space for quiet contemplation and restoration of the spirits.